Syncope
by AriesTaurus
Summary: It's just routine blood tests. No big deal. Right?


SO, we're all afraid of something. Even our superSeal...

So, read, review and smile :)

* * *

Steve checked his watch and sighed. It was time to go. He gathered the papers on his desk in some semblance of order before getting to his feet and grabbing the small sheet on top of his outbox. He walked out of his office and headed for Danny's

"Hey," he called, pushing in the door. "I'm out. I'll be back in about an hour."

"Oh right. Your annual physical. Blood tests are today."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Gimme a sec. I'm coming with."

"It's just routine blood tests, Danny. I can go by myself," Steve argued, annoyed, watching Danny cleaning up his desk.

"I know you can, babe. I'm just going with you, that's all," he said, as fell in step beside him.

"Why?"

"Because it'll save us time. 30 minutes, if your appointment is on time, which we both know it won't be and I'm already starving and I know you are too because you said you'd skipped breakfast because of the tests. If I go with you, we can go straight to lunch after."

Steve had to admit, there was something to Danny's reasoning. He kinda _was_ starving. Besides, with his appointment at fifteen past ten, adding the delay, an early lunch would almost make sense. "Okay. Right. C'mon."

* * *

Hawaii Medical Center's blood draw center was, as expected, busy, packed with waiting patients and as Danny had predicted, Steve's appointed time came and went and they were still waiting, forty-five minutes later.

Steve huffed and checked his watch for the hundredth time and Danny couldn't take it anymore.

"Would you stop that? Looking at your watch and sighing every three minutes is not going to make this go faster!"

"Steven McGarrett, room three please. Steven McGarrett, room three."

Steve rose, grinning. "No but apparently you bitching about it will."

He walked to the cubicle just left of the waiting area and sat in the large vinyl recliner putting his right arm on the pillowed rest, greeting the small, blond-haired nurse with a smile.

"Hi."

"Good morning. Name, sir?"

"Steven John McGarrett."

"Date of birth?"

"March 10th 1976."

"All set," she said, smiling as she slipped the tourniquet around his bicep. "Nice ink," she commented.

"Thanks," he replied absently, reading the titles off the many posters decorating the walls about different tests, procedures and health precautions. He willed his heart to slow down. This was just a simple blood draw. Nothing to worry about.

"Make a fist," she said, swiping an alcohol pad over the crook of his arm. "We have a total of ten vials for today so it'll take a minute or two to draw but you have good veins."

"Hm."

He carefully avoided looking her way, at the needle and collection of vials on the small table beside his arm. No-one was a fan of getting stuck with needles but he just plain hated it. The way the needle slid and dug under his skin... well it made said skin _crawl_. He shuddered.

"Deep breath in, hold still. Big stick."

"Ow," he hissed, biting his lip. It felt as if the needle was six inches long, stuck at the base of the muscle, aching all the way into his shoulder.

"I'm in. Just a couple minutes and we'll be done."

He felt her swap the first vial for a second one, the needle moving slightly under his skin. He swallowed and shook his head a little, small droplets of sweat beading on his hairline. She swapped vials again and his fingers gripped the armrest on his left a little tighter. Three more swaps later and he was starting to want to run. He HATED this. Hated the feeling of it. He lifted his left hand to wipe the perspiration off his brow, a bit surprised at how heavy his arm felt.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he muttered as she swapped vials again. He couldn't help the shuddering breath he drew in as he felt the stupid needle dig under his skin. His entire body felt heavy, leaden and another wave of sweat broke out all over.

"Mr. McGarrett? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed. She swapped vials again. He swallowed thickly.

"Two more and we're done. You sure you're okay? You're looking a little pale."

"Just get it over with," he growled.

"Just one more," she said kindly, swapping to the last vial.

His hand grasped the armrest tightly, the desire to bolt becoming overwhelming as the needle painfully dug into his arm. He was holding on to the chair because if he let go, he'd run.

He felt her put pressure on the puncture site and fold his arm upward.

"We're done. I'd like you to stay seated for anoth-"

"I gotta go," he said, pushing himself out of the chair. He wasn't staying there another second longer. He needed out. He needed some air because it was damned hot in here, sweat wetting his back and hair. He got to his feet in a fast push and felt a weighty rush, as if someone had dumped a hundred pounds of stone on his shoulders. His vision greyed out, the air whooshing out of his lungs.

"Wuh…"

He never felt his body hit the ground.

* * *

Danny was just pacing in front of the small closet-like cubicle his partner had disappeared into when he heard a loud metallic crash and a heavy thud. He paused, frowning. What the…

"Rapid response team to BD-3, Rapid Response team to room BD-3!"

The call came over the loudspeaker above his head but he heard it come from the room he was standing in front of and sure enough, the door was marked BD-3.

He didn't waste a second. He pulled his gun and went in.

"Steve!"

His gun went instantly back in his holster and he fell to his knees besides his partner. Steve lay in a tangled heap on the floor, his face ash grey, bright blood seeping from a gash above his eye. The sharp stench of urine was thick in the small room and Danny frowned when he saw the large wet spot on the front of Steve's pants. He felt and saw tremors going through his partner's arms and legs, some odd sort of twitching, not unlike some seizure he's seen and his worry doubled.

"What happened!" he called out to the small blond nurse pressing fingers to Steve's carotid. She looked pissed.

"Vasovagal syncope."

"What! What happened to my partner?" Danny yelled as a team of nurses and doctors appeared in doorway with a gurney.

"He fainted."

The first thing that registered was the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in his body. He could hear a buzz of sound around him but nothing made any sense. He could hear a thin, weak moan coming from close by but it took a while to realise it was coming from him. He swallowed thickly, his mouth cottony, pain pulsing in his head in time with his heart.

"Steve? Can you hear me?"

"Whhh…"

"Open your eyes. C'mon."

He didn't, couldn't, just managing to scrunch them tightly closed against the mounting headache.

"Wuh…"

"That's it. C'mon McGarrett, wake up."

He felt something cold on his forehead and a hand on his arm. He breathed slowly and evenly , the pounding in his head receding somewhat. Coming to wasn't like in the movies. Your brain had usually checked out on your body for a reason and he wasn't sure yet he wanted to find out what that was just yet. Confusion was always thick when he first woke and this time was no different. The rest of his surroundings began to filter through and he opened his eyes to find pale green curtains all around him, his partner staring at him with a smirk on his face. Only problem was; he had no clue where he was although hospital makes some vague sense.

"Danny," he huffed, head pounding viciously as he lifted it up.

"You back with it, princess?"

"Wha' happened?" God, his head ached. "Where…"

"HMC's ER. You honestly have no clue why you're here?"

He blinked and flopped to his back noticing for the first time the gurney he was lying on was tilted to elevate his legs above his head.

And then, it all came back to him. The blood test.

"Shit."

Danny just chuckled.

"I passed out, didn't I?"

"You _swooned_, Steven. Just like a Southern Belle."

He puffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face, hissing in pain when he touched the side of his left eyebrow. "Ow."

"You clipped the counter on your way down. Three stitches."

"Explains the headache," he muttered as he heard a deep buzzing and felt a BP cuff tightening on his arm.

"Seriously, how are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he said succinctly. He knew Danny making fun of him was par for the course but he really was feeling like crap. Low blood pressure didn't agree with him. Some people felt a little lightheaded and dizzy, sat down and felt better. He got that but cold sweats, blurred vision and a whistling in his ears like a kettle overboiling as well and it took a while to pass, even after his BP rose back up. Add a crack to the skull…

"Care to elaborate?"

"Just… go back to the office. I'll be… later."

"No can do, partner. I'm on official McGarrett-sitting duty."

He shifted again and—

His hands went to his thighs in a second.

"Where are my pants?"

Danny didn't answer. He went beet red, biting his lip in a clear effort to keep from laughing.

"Danny?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Danny apologised, shoulders shaking, unable to contain his mirth and it suddenly dawned on Steve why he was laughing. Oh crap.

He draped a hand over his eyes and groaned.

"Oooh… No. No. Nononononono…."

"Yeah," Danny chortled.

"I…"

"Pissed yourself, yeah. I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry," Danny says, honestly trying to supress the sniggers but failing miserably and let's face it, Steve would be laughing too, if things were reversed. Or… or maybe not.

Steve knew the humiliation well. Passing out from a simple blood draw wasn't fun. He wasn't not afraid of the needles or the sight of blood. It was the feeling of the needle rooting under his skin, the unique pain that came with it…

He shuddered, a groan escaping his lips and suddenly, Danny wasn't laughing anymore.

"Steve? Hey, you okay?"

He sighed. "Had your fun?"

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Take a guess, Danny! I _passed out_! It sure as hell wasn't for the fun of it!" he snapped.

"Look. I'm sorry. It just… your such a tough guy and you being afraid of needles is… you know…"

"I'm not afraid of needles. Not exactly."

"No?"

"It's called algophobia. And it isn't… fear, exactly"

"Aglowhat?"

"Algophobia. I don't hate needles. It's the… sensation they cause." Just thinking about it was enough to make cold sweat break out all over his body. "The feeling of it, under my skin…. Makes me…" he swallowed hard.

"Okay, okay. God, you're going white again. Just stop it, okay? I get it. I'm sorry I made fun of you."

"Hm," he mumbled, closing his eyes, draping his arm over his face. He really should have come alone. The humiliation was bad enough on its own but add the Danny Williams factor and he'd never hear the end of it.

"So, uh…"

"What, Danny," he asksed a little crossly.

"I thought you should know," he said and his tone made Steve sit up a little and look at him.

"Know what." He wasn't sure if he should expect another bit of humiliation or a confession, from the look on Danny's face.

"I um… I'm kinda… afraid of… uh…" Danny swallowed visibly and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Of?" Steve prompts. This was Danny's attempt at an apology, he thought.

"Rats."

"Rats?"

"Yeah. Like… a phobia, thing."

"Yeah?""

"And uh, you know, there's a lot of 'em in NYC, and Newark and..."

"Yeah, and…"

"I uh, we were chasing… Doesn't matter." Danny drew in a breath and spoke fast. "I mayhave onceemptiedmyclipinanalleybe causeoneofthemkindaranbetwee nmyfeetandIfellandIshotitand gotuspended."

"Mind slowing that down for me?" he asks, smiling a little.

"I tripped over one and I was so freaked out I shot the hell out of the dumpster it hid behind. Got suspended for a week for reckless use of my service weapon. Satisfied?"

Steve nods, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Yeah."

"So, we're even." he says after a quiet beat. "This conversation never happened. Right?"

"Right. And you got hit in the head by a psych patient."

"Cause I bring out the crazy in people."

"Right."

"Right."

Steve nodded.

Yeah.

FIN


End file.
